


451

by UneAmieImaginaire



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Language, F/F, Mild Smut, i hope you like reading overly poetic descriptions of beefy ladies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:14:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22105381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UneAmieImaginaire/pseuds/UneAmieImaginaire
Summary: "It was a pleasure to burn."They say that a picture is worth a thousand words, but all that Fahrenheit was could not be contained in a single picture. Luckily, Stella had both the time and the vocabulary to paint as many pictures as necessary.
Relationships: Fahrenheit/Female Sole Survivor
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	1. Simmer

There was no particularly eloquent way to put it. The woman was damn terrifying.

Fahrenheit’s movements lacked in grace, but they were by no means clumsy. The way she tore through her enemies was not elegant, nor was the way she weaved through the battlefield artful. This was not a dance. This was a fucking massacre.

Off the battlefield, she was a lioness. She could slink and saunter with the best of them, every subtle shift of her form screaming _danger_ to those who might encroach upon her territory. But, dear lord, _on_ the battlefield? She gladly cast aside her finesse like a shed skin, exposing the raw power that was always bursting at her seams. Many had mistaken her for a goddess of war, only to realize with their dying breaths that she was nothing short of a goddamn titan. She would crush and burn everything that dared crossed her path with devastating brutality, leaving nothing but ash in her wake. It was not graceful, but _damn_ was it beautiful.

Stella wanted to paint her likeness on a Grecian urn, yearned to stitch depictions of her crude and divine destruction into the tapestries of her soul. She was ever the artist, even and especially in this world that was little more than rubble and ruin, and Fahrenheit was the ultimate muse. Lacking the instruments necessary to express her devotion on a canvas, Stella would settle for the privilege of whispering her reverence into every inch of her earthly incarnation.

She had made an altar, a vast expanse of mindspace dedicated to this woman that was both demon and seraphim, who would rain down both righteousness and damnation in the same breath. It was not a temple, was neither beautiful nor resplendent. Those were more fitting of Aphrodite, Adonis, those deities that inspired love and devotion. This altar was of a more primitive nature, where men met in secret to either beg her mercy or invoke her wrath. She inspired fear more than love, yet there was little that Stella could do but love her with every beat of her pious heart.


	2. Scorch

Stella knew better than to express her devotion on the battlefield. Even when every living soul was reduced to dust aside from them, Fahrenheit was alert, calculating, and would not entertain songs of praise while there still existed the possibility of a threat. So, Stella would wait, her gun scanning the horizon and her heart singing a million hymns as Fahrenheit slowly replaced her lioness skin. Fahrenheit cast an appraising glance toward Stella to check for injury, and the quick, possessive action sent a spread of warmth directly to her gut. She knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she would follow this woman into oblivion. Fahrenheit knew it too, if her backwards glimpses and subtle smirks were any indication.

Her nerves were alight as Fahrenheit led her wordlessly towards a mostly-intact building. When she got to the door, she held up a hand and peered inside while Stella bounced on the balls of her feet, her synapses crackling with nervous energy. Finally, _finally_ , Fahrenheit’s fingers curled to beckon her in, and Stella was hot at her heels. The moment the door swung closed, she was shoved against it with a force that already sent her reeling. The dam broke, and her words of adoration tumbled emphatically from her lips as Fahrenheit acted to silence them with her own.

“You are so goddamn perfect…” she muttered into Fahrenheit’s mouth, tugging impatiently at her chest piece. Armor began to hit the floor as their hands moved fervently against each other’s bodies. She planted kisses along her jawline, all the while whispering proclamations of idolatry to the freckles that littered her skin. “You are destruction and ruination, and I am entirely yours to ruin.”

Fahrenheit responded in low, soft groans, not one to wax poetic herself. Any similar declarations felt unnatural and heavy on her tongue, catching on the jagged edges of her chapped lips. Stella didn’t mind in the slightest; she had plenty to say for the both of them. A nip to the throat elicited a primal growl that brought Stella to a fever pitch, and she pulled at the buttons on her lover’s shirt with enthusiasm. Her fingers lightly skimmed the bare expanse of skin beneath in a way that she knew Fahrenheit found pleasant, but not in the least bit satisfying. A strangled noise of frustration escaped her throat, causing the corners of Stella’s lips to twitch upwards into a wicked grin. Obediently, she slowly sunk to her knees, her lips trailing a path down her navel. She briefly took the button of Fahrenheit’s jeans between her teeth and looked up at her through long, dark lashes.

“May I?” she breathed, one hand toying with the zipper playfully while the other slid along the back of her thigh. Fahrenheit barked out a laugh despite herself. “Would you stop if I told you to?”

Stella scowled indignantly, looking slightly offended by the very question. “My love, I would go straight to the nearest nunnery and take a vow of celibacy if you asked me to. Assuming those still exist, of course.”

”Doesn’t sound like the sort of thing we would have nowadays,” she responded, her tone thick with amusement. “But luckily for you, that won’t be necessary.”


	3. Incinerate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better late than never?

Stella’s lips twitched upwards into a poorly concealed grin. She forced her eager hands to tug Fahrenheit’s leathers down at an unhurried pace, planting soft kisses up her inner thigh. Fahrenheit kicked off her pants at a rate that was a touch too frantic to feign nonchalance. She moved to tear off her underwear, obviously displeased with the leisurely pace. Stella caught her by the wrist and moved so that her lips hovered over the dampening cloth. Her eyes, dancing teasingly, once again sought permission. Fahrenheit responded by thrusting her hips forward with an impatient grunt. Stella responded with a noise of unbridled delight, mouth immediately setting into motion. Fahrenheit moaned softly, and Stella clung to the almost inaudible sound, loosing a shameless moan herself. Fahrenheit’s fingers wound into her hair, too tight to be considered loving by any standard other than her own.

”Enough of this.” Fahrenheit growled. She tugged her underwear down and shoved herself back into her lover’s waiting mouth. Stella was all too happy to comply, dropping all pretense in favor of Fahrenheit’s preferred brand of worship. Her tongue moved enthusiastically, nails scratching down the backs of muscular thighs. She thought of Corinthian pillars, holding up divine temples. She wondered that she could leave a mark on something so amaranthine.

The sounds that her actions evoked were strained and tentative, indicative of the fact that the honesty and vulnerability they conveyed were well outside Fahrenheit’s comfort zone. Stella continued to eulogize as she worked, mumbling incoherent prayers into every inch of available skin. She would readily renounce all of the world’s former, long-dead deities in favor of the entity before her.

“God, nothing will shut you up, will it?” Fahrenheit said, almost gently. Stella responded with a grin, teeth catching some intimate part and eliciting an uncharacteristic gasp and an uttering of her name. Stella heard nirvana in the sound.

As Fahrenheit reached a crescendo, a hand drifted down to cup Stella’s face. Stella reveled in the tender, thoughtless gesture. She was not a violent woman, but the way that Fahrenheit looked down at her now, hard exterior reluctantly crumbling, woke some long-forgotten protective physicality within her. She knew with a bone deep certainty that she would kill for this woman, offering each soot-blackened heart of her enemies as tribute.

Seeming to sense this, Fahrenheit leaned down with a wicked expression.

“Since you have so much to say,” she spoke lowly into her ear, “let’s see if we can make you scream it.”

Stella was alight. And _oh_ , what a pleasure it was to burn.

**Author's Note:**

> I realize that I am catering to a very specific niche with this one, but I'll be damned if my curse isn't consistently falling for the most minor character in every bit of media that I consume.


End file.
